


Shelter me

by ellenoruschka



Series: Heal me (Roméo et Juliette - Modern AU) [2]
Category: Romeo And Juliet - All Media Types, Romeo And Juliet - Shakespeare, Romeo e Giulietta - Ama e Cambia il Mondo, Romeo et Juliette - Presgurvic, Rómeó és Júlia (Színház)
Genre: Crying, Hugs, Hurt/Comfort, Kissing, M/M, Men Crying, Modern AU, Prompt Fill
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-04
Updated: 2018-03-04
Packaged: 2019-03-27 02:28:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 917
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13871157
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ellenoruschka/pseuds/ellenoruschka
Summary: Tybalt cursed. The stubborn key just wouldn’t cooperate, flat out refusing to turn in the keyhole; and he was really, really not in the mood for such troubles.





	Shelter me

**Author's Note:**

  * For [team-mom-wannabe](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=team-mom-wannabe).



> Note1. Requested by http://team-mom-wannabe.tumblr.com - Tycutio + Comforting kisses
> 
> Note 2. Both Mercutio and Tybalt are from the French 2010 version.

Tybalt cursed. The stubborn key just wouldn’t cooperate, flat out refusing to turn in the keyhole; and he was really, really not in the mood for such troubles. He just wanted to get inside the goddamn apartment and finally relax. He tried opening the door one more time before realizing it was unlocked.

This made Tybalt frown uneasily. He hesitated for a moment and then slowly pulled the door open, stepping into the hall and turning on the light. The only sounds to be heard in the small apartment were the distant hum of cars and the familiar buzz of the refrigerator; other than that, it was quiet. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary; but even if it were, it would have been impossible to notice – not with his flatmate’s stuff scattered over all imaginable surfaces in his customarily haphazard fashion.

Unlike everything else in the hall, Mercutio’s violet raincoat, still damp from the never-ending drizzle, hung dutifully on the rack; and somehow this detail served only to stir up Tybalt’s worry. He shrugged off his jacket along with the backpack, dropping them to the floor uncaringly, and made his way to the bedroom, unable to cope with the growing feeling of unease.

***

After the brightly lit hallway, the bedroom seemed so dark that in the first second Tybalt thought there was no one there. Then a weak whimper broke the silence of the room, making him stop in his tracks and remove his hand from the switch. Tybalt squinted, and, as his eyes began to adjust to the darkness, was finally able to see Mercutio sitting on the far end of the large bed, hunched over. His flatmate’s shoulders were shaking uncontrollably, hands clenching and unclenching in his lap; and in the faint light coming from the hallway, Tybalt saw that his cheeks were wet.

It was so unlike his lover’s usual bubbly, cheerful self that Tybalt just stood frozen in the doorway, staring, unable to speak. But then Mercutio slowly raised his head, and the sight of his face broke Tybalt’s heart: pale, stricken, lips tightly pinched together but still quivering; huge dark eyes full of tears.

“Mercutio?..”

It was but a whisper; but its effect was immediate. Mercutio’s whole face fell, crumpling in a helpless, childlike grimace, his hands reaching out almost as if on their own accord, in a gesture both pleading and desperate; and the next moment Tybalt was surging forward, dropping to his knees in front of his lover. He seized Mercutio’s long fingers, unclenching them carefully, and began pressing soft, warm kisses to the knuckles, to the tops of his shaking hands, nuzzling into the bends of his wrists. Then Tybalt carefully turned his palms over, massaging into them with his thumbs firmly but tenderly to drive away the tension and then pressing a kiss into each palm.

Feeling Mercutio unwind a tiny bit, Tybalt looked into his lover’s tear-stained face, half-hidden behind the chaos of his dark curls, and reached up to cup his trembling jaw. Mercutio whimpered in response, scrunching his eyes shut and leaning into the touch. Tybalt moved to sit beside him, drawing the other man close, and began to pepper Mercutio’s tear-stained face with feather-light kisses, catching stray tears with his lips, caressing his wet cheeks, his slightly rough chin, his sharp cheekbones, his eyebrows, his temples. But his tenderness seemed to do the opposite of calming Mercutio: the youth trembled even more, his convulsive breaths sounding more and more like sobs.

Sighing, Tybalt drew him close and held him firmly. He did not know what had happened to force his beloved into such misery, but that could wait until Mercutio was feeling better.

“’S okay, Cutio,” he murmured. “‘M here. Cry, love, it’s okay.”

With a terrible wail, Mercutio wound his arms around Tybalt’s torso almost desperately, gripping fistfuls of his shirt, and buried his face in the red-clad shoulder. He wept brokenly, openly, not trying to swallow down his sobs anymore.

His gut-wrenching screams made Tybalt’s blood run cold, but he did his best to keep calm and soothe his lover’s pain, rubbing his back, kissing his matted hair. “S’okay, ’m here,” he whispered again and again, “you’re okay, love, you’re not alone, I’m here.”

Eventually Mercutio’s sobs quieted somewhat, and he only trembled, breathing raggedly, still clutching at Tybalt’s shirt. He even attempted to speak, but Tybalt immediately silenced him by running a thumb over his half-open mouth and then followed the same path with his lips, not quite kissing, their breaths mixing in the cool air of the room.

“Hush now, my love. ‘S okay. ‘S alright.”

There would be time for that later. There would be time to find out what tragedy had wounded his lover so; there would be time to leave the eye of the storm and face the tempest. And Mercutio would not have to face it alone; no, Tybalt would be at his side, an unwavering, comforting presence to draw strength from.

But it all could – and would have to – wait. There and then, Tybalt was Mercutio’s sanctuary, his shelter, his refuge from pain. And if it so happened that his embrace and his kisses could keep that cursed pain at bay, well, then he was not planning on letting go anytime soon.

And, as Tybalt pressed another soft kiss to Mercutio’s still wet cheek, he felt his lover’s lips form a fragile smile.

No, he was definitely not letting go.

He was not.

Not ever.


End file.
